Pry. Certainly, my Lady, but this is a very strange one tho'. For you must know, my Lady, I thought no harm just to taste one of the bottles myself, thinking it might be some pennyroyal-water or blackberiy-wine, or such things as charitable ladies give away; but I protest it is as good liquor as any gentlewoman would chuse to keep for her own use.
Lady S. I believe it has run in your head, Pry?
Pry. No, no, my Lady; whatever I may do by myself when I have a pain in my stomach, or such like, for nobody can help afflictions when it pleases heaven to send them, I never takes more than is creditable before people.—And, O my Lady! the pans of milk, and the butter, that I have seen in the dairy! And I assure you, my Lady, the servants make good use of it: they make spare of nothing: the very kitchen maids have cream to their tea.
Lady S. Well, well; we shall see how long this rioting will last.
Pry. And I have been in the garden and the orchard too—But stop! I hear a noise in the bushes.
Lady S. (looking round alarmed.) Why did you talk so loud, you gossiping fool? Come with me into the house. (Exeunt Lady Sarah and Pry, looking round alarmed.)
